Seals
seem to have played a large part in my zoological career. I spent a very
enjoyable two year stint as a marine zoologist for an aquarium, which involved
caring for and training four fully grown grey seals, and these irresistibly
lovable animals were at the centre of my dissertation. Perhaps it has something
to do with my attachment to dogs – to whom our pinniped friends are so
undeniably similar in character – but I formed an instant fondness for the
soulful eyes, rolls of blubber and happy-go-lucky nature of these creatures.
My
dissertation was based at the Ythan estuary, about a thirty minute drive north
of Aberdeen. It is part of Forvie Sands Nature reserve and is an incredibly
important ecosystem, supporting a diverse network of estuarine life. The
mudflats in particular are species rich, boasting populations of Hydrobia and Euphausiids,
amongst a variety of others. These in turn attract a stunning array of shorebirds,
from redshanks to terns. Four species of tern utilise the Ythan’s bounty, most
commonly the sandwich tern, the population of which amounts to just over 1000
pairs. During the breeding season Forvie Sands is closed to the public to allow
the colonies of rare terns a chance to settle down in private. During my
dissertation I was lucky enough to be allowed access to these colonies by the
ranger, Annabel Drysdale. After an incredibly bumpy ride across the sand dunes
in her rusty old Land Rover, we were richly rewarded by the spectacular sight
of a busy tern colony containing not only sandwich and common terns, but also
the much rarer little tern.
And of course, my absolute favourite the eider
duck – who, as I have mentioned before, have my favourite call of any bird,
sounding somewhat akin to a pervy builder eyeing up the local talent – reside at
the estuary in vast numbers. In fact, the reserve boasts the largest breeding
colony of these birds in the UK.
On top
of this, Forvie Sands also contains one of the largest populations of seals in
the British Isles. Although accurate counts are difficult to come by, the last
estimate stated a number exceeding 1000. When you first encounter this vast,
sprawling mass of pinniped bulk, your brain almost can’t compute it. Rounding a
corner through the dunes, a wall of mottled grey greets you accompanied by a
chorus of grunts, groans and howls (you could almost be forgiven for imagining
a pig farm would be waiting for you). And for every ten seals you can see on
land, one will be bobbing about in the water – quite difficult to spot at first
as they blend in perfectly with the steely grey of the seawater. But once you've spotted one, it’s a bit like Where’s Wally; suddenly lots of little dome
shaped heads pop up out of the water, eyeing you with a calm indifference.
The
majority of the population is made up of grey seals. There are two species of
seal commonly found in Britain – grey and harbour. Grey seals are generally
larger in size, with a flat, ‘roman-shaped’ nose and v-shaped nostrils. Harbour
seals have the classic, perhaps ‘cuter’ Labrador face we associate with seals
and tend to be smaller and lighter in colour. I did notice a small population
of around 10-15 harbour seals who always seemed to remain separate from the
bustling mass nearer the estuary mouth. There isn’t much evidence to say that
grey seals bully their canine-like counterparts, but perhaps the fact they
don’t intermix is the reason why.
My
dissertation largely involved myself and two of my zoology course mates sitting
on the beach with some binoculars observing the seals’ movements everyday
for a month straight. You may think that chilling on the beach in summer sounds
like a fantastic way to spend a month, but clearly you do not live in North
East Scotland. In the rare moments it was not a torrential downpour, it was
gale-force winds or bitingly cold. And on top of this, we’d only had enough
money to buy a two-man tent, which meant taking it in turns sitting outside
wrapped in a bin bag to protect our notebooks (and who said being an ecologist
wasn’t glamourous?). But we grew to love watching the behavioural antics of our
subjects, who lounged and lazed to their hearts content despite the weather.
Seals have a wonderful relaxed attitude to life, and will move only to have a
leisurely stretch, curling up their back flippers and leaning back the head in
a characteristic display of incredibly slow gymnastics. Occasionally, one or
two would make the cumbersome journey of hobbling across to a new spot or
perhaps (a very exciting event to us as we froze in our tent or bin bag) a few
of the enormous males would become locked in battle. However, these fights
would only last for a few minutes before the lesser male would give in, yawn,
and return back for a well-deserved nap. Seals on land even blink slowly.
Seals in
the water are a different story. Anyone who has witnessed the clumsy, awkward
struggle of a seal moving on land can relate to the surprise of the smoothness and grace of their aquatic acrobatics. Seals are also notoriously inquisitive and individuals at the Ythan can
be observed following dog walkers up the beach, sometimes coming within a few
feet of people standing in the shallows. This curiosity has unfortunately got
the seals into trouble a few times, especially with the angling community.
Recreational salmon fishing is a big past-time at the Ythan and therefore
conflict as emerged between the angling society and the vast seal population, a
topic which was the concern of my dissertation. I spent a lot of time talking
with fishermen, who strongly believed the seals were feasting on salmon and posted
a threat to anglers in boats. Data on salmon stocks for the Ythan showed salmon
numbers were actually on the rise, however many individuals would come very
close to the boat, sometimes even swimming underneath. A male gray seal can
grow up to 7m in length; it is easy to see why some anglers might be
intimidated by a wild animal of substantial size showing a keen (if albeit
harmless) interest in their distinctly small fishing boat. A cull is forever
being proposed but, thankfully, has never been allowed.
I, for
one, cross my fingers that it never will. I naively hope for the day that the
fishermen accept they are in the seals’ territory,
stealing the seals’ food from
underneath their noses, and realise the seals themselves don’t bear a grudge.
In fact, they’ll just shrug, sigh and relax onto a comfortable spot on the
beach. Maybe we should all take a leaf out of their book…
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